


When We First Met

by redlizard_rambles



Series: Long May He Reign [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Love, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26667895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlizard_rambles/pseuds/redlizard_rambles
Summary: "Feels like reckless driving when we're talkingIt's fun while it lasts, and it's faster than walkingBut no one's going to sympathize when we crashThey'll say "you hit what you head for, you get what you ask"And we'll say we didn't know, we didn't even tryOne minute there was road beneath us, the next just sky"-Falling Is Like This, Ani DiFranco
Relationships: Alistair & Anora Mac Tir, Alistair & Cailan Theirin, Alistair & Loghain Mac Tir, Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Anora Mac Tir/Cailan Theirin, Female Cousland & Anora Mac Tir, Female Cousland & Duncan (Dragon Age), Fergus Cousland/Oriana Cousland, Maric Theirin & Alistair Theirin
Series: Long May He Reign [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940362
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Two Little Terynas

The two girls who once would have greeted each other in squeals and laughter, met much more reserved on this day. 

The first was Anora Mac Tir, promised to the oldest son of Maric Theirin, and would one day be a princess and then a queen. Her days of pigtails and scraped knees were behind her. She stood tall and straight. Her light blonde hair pulled tightly against her scalp and back into the braids that would become her trademark. She pursed her lips judgingly at the only female friend she’d really had in her time at Denerim. 

The second girl was Livia Cousland. Bryce’s “spitfire” and she was all about scraped knees and wild hair. She marched in proudly, a dagger on her hip and a mabari war hound puppy by her side. Newly twelve years old, the youngest Cousland heir was learning to be an “adventurer”, and spent her time outside as much as possible, ruining every dress her mother had made for her. 

The puppy, still learning his role with his mistress, ran forward and jumped up on Anora. Livia clicked her tongue and whistled, but the puppy was too excited now. 

Anora calmly moved the dog off the front of her skirts and held the creature away, pointing a long finger and saying “no” in a firm voice. The puppy returned to a horrified Livia’s side, whimpering. 

“What was that?!” Livia accused. 

“You need to get your beast under control,” Anora replied icily. 

Livia shook with rage. He had only been with her a month and some days now. He was a puppy. He would learn. But not through fear. 

“You need to be put under control!” Livia retorted with hands on her hips. 

“Go play with the boys, I have no time for children,” Anora snapped and turned away, leaving the room. 

Walking quickly down the hall to her room, she flung the door open, and threw herself on her bed, tears already pouring from her eyes. 

What a little brat! 

Anora screamed into her pillow, hating how quickly the younger girl got under her skin. Her trainers and tutors told her, she had to keep her cool around others. Drilled it into her, sometimes with a thin switch. In royal court, there was no room for emotions or errors created by them. Passion was for fools. Reservation and patience lead to victory. 

_ It wasn’t fair, _ Anora sighed, the tears starting to dry on her cheeks,  _ I want a puppy too. _

\--

Livia watched the older girl leave the room, and tried to calm down. Her breathing was quick and sharp, her eyes blurred with tears. Steel stayed by her side and whined, drawing her attention. She scooped the already growing pup into her arms and buried her face into his sweet smelling fur. 

“Izat a mabari?” a small voice called out. 

Livia found the voice to a boy with sandy blonde hair, peeking in the doorway. 

“It is. Would you like to meet him?” she said, placing Steel back on the cool stone floors, and scrubbing the tears into her skin. 

The boy nodded and came into the room, plopping to the floor, and allowing Steel to sniff around him. The pup quickly grew to like the boy and jumped all over him, licking and sniffing, causing the boy to laugh gleefully. 

“I wish I could have a dog like this,” he murmured. 

Livia looked over the boy, who seemed a few years younger than her. His clothes were pretty plain, and she assumed he was a servant’s child. 

“I’m Livia.”

“Alistair.”

They spent the afternoon together, doing all the things Livia used to do with Anora. Unlike Anora, the boy was ready to follow any of her “commands” as they marched through the gardens slaying demons and monsters with sticks. 

“Livia!” a voice called, abruptly ending their play. 

“Daddy!” she called back and ran off to her father who was standing next to a man with the biggest beard she’d ever seen.

“Did you have fun today? Did you behave yourself?” she nodded quickly to the first question, and shrugged shyly to the second.

The bearded man let out a big laugh, and the young boy came to his side. 

“I’m glad you had a good day, but it is time for us to go. Say goodbye to the King and Prince.”

Livia’s eyes widened to the bearded man and the boy she’d spent most of the day with. 

“Good day, Your Majesty,” she curtsied in her dirty skirt. “I liked playing with you today Prince Alistair,” she awkwardly stooped down a bit and kissed the boy on the cheek. 

Alistair ducked behind his father’s legs, and the King let out another booming laugh. 

“Let’s go Pup. Your Majesty, I’ll be in touch.”


	2. A Royal Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair Theirin meets Livia Cousland at his brother's wedding

“So Cay, excited for the big day?” Alistair sidestepped around his brother’s servants as they dressed him. 

“I can think of no finer thing to do than marrying the sweet Anora,” Cailan responded in a sing-song voice.

He held his arms out, a golden embroidered white coat being slid over his arms and shoulders. The Highever Weave used for the suit had been a special gift from the Teryn of Highever, carefully bleached white with lye in a process that took months. Golden vines and leaves embroidered along the sides of the coat, done specially for Cailan. 

“Uh-huh. Well I’m just excited Father let me wear this finally.” Alistair said proudly showing off his dragon armor. 

He had it specially made for today, by a newcomer known only as Master Wade, but it had been sitting in the royal armory for over a month now. Alistair would often go and just look at the impressive forge of gilded iron. The delicate inlay of flames covered the gauntlets and greaves, all leading to the massive dragon face on his chest plate. His helmet adorned with a bright green plume, his way of honoring the late Queen Rowan. 

Despite it being impossible, she was treated as his mother. He had no one else to fall back on, and Rowan had been a powerful leader and warrior. He felt pride thinking of the woman who was such a force in driving out the occupation.

An elven girl finished the braids on the side of Cailan’s head and fastened his hair back, her deft hands moving quickly and perfectly before she stepped back, her eyes catching with Alistair’s. She blushed and quickly lowered her head. 

“So when do you expect we’ll be doing this for you?” Cailan asked, a sly grin on his face catching the brief moment. Alistair had shown no signs of much interest in women, something Cailan could not understand. 

Alistair blushed and mumbled something. 

“What’s that? Can’t heeear you,” Cailan teased. 

Alistair let out a large breath. “I don’t know. The people whisper already that Father has a line of ladies for me to meet today. But I’m not too concerned. Let’s get you married first!” He finished enthusiastically, pushing through the servants and clapping his hands on his brother’s shoulders.

With that, there was a quick rap at the door and it slowly peaked open. 

“Your highness? It is time.”

Cailan shook his brother off and turned to look at him. “Wish me luck!”

“Good luck, brother.”

\--

“Good people of Ferelden, may we announce the royal couple; Cailan and Anora Theirin, Prince and Princess of Ferelden!”

The crowd exploded with excitement as Cailan and Anora made their entrance from the Chantry at the Royal Palace. Cailan stepped forward in his elaborate and handsome golden and white suit, with a wide grin as he waved to the people. Anora, at his side, her lace cream dress showing off her shoulders, while her attendants kept her court train off the ground. Her lips were pulled back in a demure smile as she gently waved to her future subjects. 

Maric walked behind them, a goofy grin plastered over his face, with Alistair by his side.

As Alistair looked out at the people of Denerim and wondered what it would be like to be one of them. He had a gut feeling that this was never supposed to be his place. He never felt unwelcomed in the palace, but something sat inside him telling him he would never be satisfied living as a prince. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to serve his country, he just wasn’t sure where he stood under his brother’s shadow of future king.

As Maric’s closest friend and advisor, Loghain Mac Tir and his honor guard came last, the general’s stern face and sharp blue eyes gave nothing away; a complete opposite to Maric’s joyous face.

The parade wound through the streets allowing the citizens of Ferelden to see the wedding procession. The people screamed in excitement, crying out good wishes for an heir, throwing flower petals and small trinkets at the feet of the newlyweds. 

Cailan loved every second, waving and blowing kisses, inciting screams from young maidens. Anora kept her composer, bowing her head to well wishes, but otherwise giving nothing else away.

Alistair marched at his father’s side, wondering if the woman he would marry was somewhere in the sea of people right now screaming for a glance in their direction. Would she blow kisses or simply smile at their subjects?

The procession eventually made its way back to the Royal Palace, the guards escorting nobles into the palace for the reception and keeping the crowds from getting too wild.

“Alistair,” Maric started as they watched the bride and groom make their way back up the steps, “give the armor a rest and find something more suitable, I have some people I would like to introduce to you.”

“Father…” Alistair groaned. He wasn’t too surprised; he knew there was a certain expectation of duty to marry. Even though Calian was only hours married at this point, Alistair was coming up close to his sixteenth year and the possibility of being married by his eighteenth wasn’t unlikely.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about this. Despite Cailan’s prying, Alistair wasn’t blind, and had taken notice to the fairer sex in their sleek dresses and soft curls. He knew one day he would marry, but he hoped it would be out of love; the way the stories of Maric and Rowan were told to him. He wondered if his father loved his mother the same way; if he was a product of love or just a mistake.

Maric watched his youngest go through multiple emotions at a rapid rate. 

“Alistair?” he prodded, a softness in his voice. 

Alistair returned to the present and started walking towards the stairs. “I’m going, I’m going.” 

“I’d sell you to the Chantry if I could!” Maric playfully called after. 

“And what a fine Templar, I’d make!” Alistair shouted backwards, now taking stairs two at a time. 

Alistair smiled at the thought of him being a Templar. He liked the swordplay and learning to hone his skills, but the rules sounded crushing. Yet, he always wondered what he should do. As second son, he wasn’t expected to take the throne, but there were still only a few options he could pick from. He wasn’t sure he wanted to just hang around the castle as a Prince. 

He had sometimes wondered what it would be like to be a Grey Warden. His father told fantastical stories of them. Having traveled with them before his birth, Maric always hyped the stories up; riding on griffons and slaying dragons. But the last Blight was almost 400 years ago and the Grey Wardens only a memory now, yet Alistair romanticized the idea of saving the world as one.

He was still lost in the train of thoughts, as his maids near unnoticeably and efficiently removed the armor for proper cleaning and storage and dressed him in garments suitable for his brother’s wedding reception. 

He glanced briefly at himself in the mirror and donned an emerald green summer cloak over the sienna tunic and pants, and shifted his foot better into the soft leather boots. He nodded in approval and tried to hide any apprehension of being introduced around. At the very least, there would be good food. 

Alistair came to the ballroom with the party in full swing and began looking for his father to meet the mystery persons in question. 

“Alistair!” Maric’s voice boomed over the crowds. Alistair immediately saw his father’s golden hair and walked over to the gathering of people around him. Not people, Alistair immediately spotted, but women. Ladies. Ladies all waiting to meet him. Alistair swallowed hard and swept a hand through his hair, hoping it wasn’t messy.

“Your highness,” a maiden stepped forward, bowing deeply and fluttering her piercing green eyes at the Prince. She stood and offered a hand, “Izot Wulff of West Hills, my lord.”

Alistair bowed politely and kissed the provided hand and eyed the lady in front of him. She was slender, her deep purple everknit wool dress hugging onto her body.

“My lady,” he replied with a soft smile. She looked at him hungrily and Alistair felt uncomfortable under her stare. She could only be a year or two older and she looked ready to pounce.

In rapid succession, Alistair was presented with the Marquis of Serault, Lady Amell of Kirkwall, Lady Flora Harriman of Kirkwall, and the Duchess of Wycome. All fine women, all around Alistair’s age, yet none of them made Alistair feel any kind of way. He nodded politely, laughed at their jokes, looked comfortable with their delicate hands on his arms, but Maric could see in his son’s eyes that Alistair was bored. There would be no match-making here.

Maric, ready to give up and let his son go, but his eyes brightened as he waved the family of four over.

“Bryce!” Maric called over. “These are the Couslands of Highever,” Maric whispered to his son. Alistair looked at his father mildly offended, of course he knew the Couslands of Highever. He did pay attention during his lessons and had seen Lord Cousland many a times at the Landsmeet. 

Bryce Cousland looked up and nodded to his king, gathering his wife, son, daughter-in-law, and daughter to come meet the young prince.

Alistair internally groaned. Not more people. He straightened up, slapped on a smile and mentally prepared himself for, he was sure, more idle chatter.

“Your highness, an honor. May the Maker bless your brother’s union,” Lord Bryce bowed.

“This is my wife Eleanor, my son Fergus and his wife Oriana, and my daughter Livia,” he introduced.

Alistair bowed in return, already planning a plausible excuse to escape the conversation when his eyes finally landed on Livia.

Maybe it was the rich red of her dress against her golden brown hair or her eyes brighter than a clear sunny day, or just the way she looked at him with a slight smirk, but his attention was captured. 

He took her hand gently, never letting his eyes lose hers, and placed a gentle kiss on her hand. It smelled of rich leather and something floral. He let go, his breath caught in his throat.

“Your highness,” she said calmly. 

The other ladies, hoping this was a quick introduction, moved in just a touch closer. Their antics almost comical as they fluffed their hair and pulled their dresses down a bit to show more cleavage. To be escorted by the young prince for the evening would strengthen their bid of becoming a Princess of Ferelden. 

Livia found the behavior akin to vultures.  _ Filthy scavengers,  _ she thought to herself. There was no denying the prince was very handsome, even at fifteen, but Livia had little interest in tying herself down to a lord, much less a prince. Especially a Theirin Prince, the rumors of his father and older brother alone were enough to make her shudder at the idea. She felt a certain pity for the now Princess Anora. The two had spent time together once upon a time, but had little in common outside of that. 

Yet, Livia didn’t like the idea of the Prince being forced to deal with one of the flouncing women behind them. She might not have much interest in him herself, but there was no reason she couldn’t be an ally. She inched closer to the prince and cocked her head to the side. Alistair swallowed tightly. The ladies glared.

“Your Highness.” Lord Cousland bowed and Lady Cousland curtsied.

“What a momentous occasion. The children of the heroes who drove the Orelesian occupation away! They will sing ballads of this night,” Lady Cousland cooed. 

“Only if they are as impressive as  _ The Seawolf and The Soldier _ ,” Maric jested, earning a blush from the Lady Cousland. 

“Oh, those days are long behind me. I hardly see myself as a battle maiden anymore.”

“In Antiva, a woman fighting in battle would be… unthinkable,” Oriana interjected leaning into Fergus. 

“In my travels, I’ve met Antivans, women or otherwise, to be quite the dangerous lot,” Maric replied. 

“With kindness and poison only, Your Majesty.”

“This from the woman who brings me my tea!” Fergus joked. 

“And what of the last Cousland lady? Lady Livia, do you follow in your mother’s footsteps? I’m sure you know the stories, but she was quite fierce on the seas against the Orlesians.”

Livia glanced between her mother and the king. Eleanora  _ insisted _ that Livia not mention her swordplay training, but this was the one of the few things Livia liked to talk about. 

“I do in fact, Your Majesty. I’m currently training with some of Father’s knights.”

Maric’s eyes lit up and he nudged Alistair’s foot. Alistair always had a fondness for women in armor with big swords. He swore he’d marry Ser Cautherine when he was younger. 

Alistair widened his eyes at his father and shook his head the tiniest amount. Livia had shifted closer to him, and sometimes his pinky would brush against his hand. Anytime he looked down, he had a  _ very _ clear view down the front of her dress, and found it best for his eyes to be elsewhere. 

“My pup is a feisty one, your Majesty!” Lord Cousland said proudly. 

“I can tell!” Maric responded joyously. “Lady Livia, what are you studying now? Maybe bow or daggers?”

“I actually prefer the longsword,” she said coolly. Elenora glared daggers at her daughter and Livia pursed her lips in mild irritation. “But I also enjoy horseback riding, history, and poetry.” 

Maric nodded thoughtfully, “And what of the young Lord Fergus? What are you and your lovely wife’s plans?”

Livia was becoming tired of the pleasantries and could see the prince’s eyes pulled away to anywhere but here. 

“Father, Mother, your Majesty,” she interrupted, “would it be okay if Prince Alistair escorts me for the evening?”

The adults all stopped talking, Fergus was sharing his most recent trip to Antivia with Oriana, but stopped and raised his eyebrows at his baby sister. 

Livia rolled her eyes at him, and slid her elbow into Alistair’s arm and pulled slightly, grabbing his attention back. He blushed profusely, and faked a coughing fit to turn his head away while calming down. 

Her chest was pressed against the back of his arm, soft and warm, and Alistair could feel his face heat back up. 

The adults all nodded in agreement, and Alistair let Livia drag him away, making sure to pass by the ladies standing in wait. 

She flashed them a devilish smile and they quickly scattered. 

Maric looked softly after the pair as they vanished into the crowds of people, turning back to Bryce and Elanora, who were both looking quite pleased.

\--

Livia breathed a sigh of relief, the air already feeling more open. She hated when her mother paraded her in front of “potential suitors”. She felt like a bug under a looking glass, any minute before she would burst into flames. She lessened her grip on the prince’s arm, not realizing how tensed she had become. 

Alistair relaxed, but also immediately missed the intimate contact. He waved down a servant and grabbed two goblets of honeyed wine, handing one to the lady. 

They stood awkwardly in what felt like the middle of the room, feeling the stares and whispers. 

Alistair smiled and nodded politely at everyone who passed, while nursing his drink, knowing full well what this walk meant, or looked like it meant. 

Livia sighed into her cup, feeling like she read the situation wrong. The prince would hardly look at her still. 

“Your highness,” she began, finally drawing his eyes to hers; his were a rich copper, and showed his smile without her even having to look at his mouth. “I didn’t mean to drag you away, I just needed some air. If there was another lady you wished to spend your time with…” she trailed off, giving him an easy out. 

His sharp ‘no’ surprised her, and his eyes softened in apology. “No, I, just.” He brushed a hand through his long hair pulling some of it loose from the tie in the back. “I would rather,” he said slowly as if picking each word out slowly, “spend the evening with you.”

Livia smiled brightly, never having felt wanted like this. Eleanor was quick to parade her youngest around since reaching maturity, but as soon as she spoke of learning to fight, especially with blades, many lost interest, which she was fine with. 

“Not interested in the ladies from across the pond?”

Alistair snorted with laughter. “Maybe if they liked me for me, and not that I’m a prince.”

Livia smiled shyly appreciating the young man’s words. 

“Shall we wander?” she asked. 

Alistair nodded enthusiastically and offered back his arm. 

“So, Lady Livia…” he began.

“Livia is fine, Your Highness,” she offered, her lips widened to a grin.

“Then please call me Alistair,” he countered. “Livia, tell me about what got you interested in swordplay?”

Livia’s eyes widened and she began to talk animatedly about her twelfth birthday, when her father got her a mabari puppy and a dagger that was once her mother’s. 

Eleanor was furious with her husband, giving a young child, and a girl, a weapon, but Livia was so proud and marched around with her “blade and Steel” for months. 

Her hands moving animatedly around as she spoke, never noticing the looks and whispers the pair got walking through the room. 

“I love the power I possess when there is a blade in my hand,” she finished, her face flushed and eyes bright. 

Alistair swallowed hard. Maker, be praised.

While making their rounds, they ended up in front of Cailan and Anora. Cailan was laughing gaily, obviously a goblet or two in too deep. Anora sat posed and quiet, offering appropriate pleasantries in return to her well-wishers. 

Alistair and Livia were next and Cailan leaped from his chair. 

“Ho, Alistair! Brother! Friend! And who is this?” He eyed Livia and turned on his princely smile.

“Husband, this is Livia Cousland: Bryce’s youngest,” Anora introduced.

She bowed to Cailan and turned to Anora. “May the Maker smile on your union.”

“Yes! Cousland. Bryce’s youngest,” Cailan murmured, his eyes glazed and trailing down her body. Livia stood straighter and turned her gaze icy, before giving a side nod to Anora in way of apology. 

Anora pursed her lips and placed a firm hand on Cailan’s shoulder.

“Come husband. Let’s wish our friends well and return to our chambers. I fear the wine has been too strong for you tonight.”

Cailan shushed to no one but sat down and nodded. Anora summoned a servant, who quickly quieted the room. 

Anora stood, her hands gently clasped together in front of her, as she addressed the crowd. Cailan sat taller in his throne and watched her, a slow smile playing out on his face.

“Lords and Ladies of Ferelden, I am honored you all came tonight. The love I feel from this room, from all of Ferelden, is the greatest gift of all. Thank you for accepting me as your Princess, but if you will excuse me, it is time my Prince and I retire for the night.”

The crowd burst into cheers; chatter began about future princes and princesses surely to be made tonight. Cailan stood and held his bride’s hand and together they departed. 

Alistair and Livia made their way back into the party, her arm still in his. Livia started walking towards her parents but Alistair pulled gently and nodded to a door. Livia looked at him quizzically but followed. 

He led them outside to the Royal Gardens, the warm summer air buzzing with insect activity. 

They walked the paths past the roses, embriums, and crystal grace in comfortable silence. 

“Forgive me if this is presumptuous…” Alistair began, nervous of his own words. “But I would like it if we could correspond after you return to Highever.” He fidgeted with his hands, seeming to forget Livia could feel every anxious movement through her arm still entwined with his.

“I would like that Alistair.” 

“Will I see you at the tourney tomorrow?”

Livia got a mischievous look on her face. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other. I should be returning to my family now.”

Alistair let his head fall in agreement but a bit of disappointment and escorted her back inside and through the dying party back to her family. 

“Teryn Cousland, it was a pleasure,” Alistair bowed respectfully. 

Bryce raised his eyes, noticing his daughter’s slightly flushed face and returned the gesture.

“Good evening, Your Highness.” 

The party was mostly over now as Alistair made his way back to Maric. He found his father surveying the large room, the last Lords and Ladies departing, the servants starting to gather refuse. 

“Good evening?” Maric asked as his son came to stand next to him. 

“We’re going to write. I want to invite her to the palace next summer,” said Alistair unsurely. This was the test if he was being forced into a political marriage or allowed to choose for himself. Cailan had a “choice” but growing up with Anora down the hall meant he didn’t have as many options.

Maric glanced at his son a bit surprised. He honestly had no intentions of setting Alistair up with Bryce’s daughter, but was not unhappy about the turn of events. He wanted to say something, acknowledge what a solid alliance this would make, or mention Livia’s many skills she seemed to display, but he thought better of it. He wanted Alistair to have his freedom, the young man didn’t need his father’s input. 

“Very well. I’m glad you had a good time.”

Alistair’s nervousness faded immediately, and he quickly found the departing Cousland family, catching Livia’s attention for a moment longer. 

She smiled and gave a little wave, calling out, “Your Highness, I’ll be in touch!”


	3. Love Is Like Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Livia get to know each other a bit better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a brand new chapter, not in the original work.

Alistair woke with a bolt of energy running through him. Today was the Tourney of Flowers, a silly name for the contests of metal and steel in the arena. 

While it wasn’t nearly as fancy as anything in the Marches or Orlais, it was a way for young men to find a knight or lord and provide for their family. 

Denerim’s Market Square would be opened in the middle for the sword fights, an archery lane set up in the back alleys and a horseback riding race through the docks. Plus vendors from all around the country here to sell their wares. 

Before his handmaiden could even come to wake him up, Alistair had scrubbed himself with the small amount of bathwater for overnight visits to the latrine, donned a light tunic and training trousers, and pulled his hair tight behind his head to keep it from his eyes. 

He sped walked to the armory and was met with two sleepy guards, who quickly snapped to attention and let the young prince in. 

Alistair flitted between the weapons trying to decide what he wanted to test in the arena today. He held onto the promise that he might see Lady Livia, and wanted something that made him look and feel like a legend.

He finally settled on a long sword, the silverite gleaming in the dim light of the armory and for the shield, something heavy. He wanted to show his brother, father and most importantly his teacher, General Loghain, that he had been working on his strength and could wield the massive piece of metal with ease. 

Shouting and the quick tapping of feet on the stone floors caught up with him, as three of his servants came into the armory after him. 

“Your highness!” his handmaid, Alita scolded. She had been his nanny for years, and never held back with her charge. “We will get your armor for you, sire, go sit with your brother in the gardens for breakfast. When it is time, we will gather you.” 

Alistair didn’t even try to protest as the older woman shooed him away. Carefully handing the sword and shield to the older woman. 

Cailan was already tucking into a large plate filled with eggs, meats, and bread when Alistair arrived. 

He raised a hand in greeting, his mouth full of food. 

Alistair nodded in response and sat across his brother, filling his own plate with extra cheese and bread from the central platter. 

“I saw you escorting Lady Livia last night,” Cailan said, finally taking a breath from his devouring. 

“You were too drunk to see anything last night,” Alistair countered, a slight blush creeping on his face. 

There was no denying what the court saw last night. But Alistair knew not picking at least someone to escort for the evening would also work against him. Livia Cousland had been polite and interesting, and a battle maiden at that! At least she was Fereldan. Most of the ladies had been from the Marches, and while Alistair was sure they were perfectly fine people, they were all vying for political allegiance. 

He initially assumed escorting her would be an easy and safe choice, seeing as the Couslands were nearly as powerful as his own line. Livia would have normally been married off to a brother or cousin of the women throwing themselves at him. Yet his father gave blessing for the two to start corresponding. Maybe Alistair had a chance to get to know her better. Today was supposed to be one of those chances. 

“I saw enough,” Cailan countered. “Hoping to show a glory of strength today? Ladies love a man with a big sword.” He raised his eyebrows for added emphasis. 

Alistair chuckled and flicked a cherry pit at his brother. “Don’t be crass. I want what you and Anora have. I want true love.”

Cailan broke out in a grin, “Yes,” he said simply, his eyes seeming just a bit sad.

\--

The next time Alistair saw his brother, he was leading the opening parade on horseback with Anora at his side on her own. They were quite the striking pair, in matching red and gold summer wear on top of their pure white horses. 

The parade finished in Market Square. Maric already stood on the platform with an ornate chair to watch and judge the fighting events. He raised a hand and the crowd waited with a bated breath. He dropped his hand quickly through the air, “Let the games begin!” The crowd broke into a frenzy, eager to get the best spots at each event that interested them.

Alistair still had some time before the nobles played for the amusement of the citizens, so he wandered the festival with Tomas at his side. 

Today he got to wear his armor all day, and walked proudly through the streets, eager to present himself as a warrior, and hoping to catch a glimpse of Livia. They hadn’t explicitly said they’d meet up, and Livia seemed a bit secretive of the whole thing. 

While Alistair kept an eye out for the fair lady, he did still enjoy himself. Having never been much with a bow, he was beyond impressed with the archery range, as many of the archers, young men and women from the Bannorn, were quick shots and would surely find recruitment or patronage here. 

As he continued to wander, they caught a glimpse of the horse racing track, and Alistair silently cursed himself for the heavy armor. An ornate parade horse with dangles and bells could carry him at a trot, but these riders were in tight light clothing, on horses meant for speed. 

Tomas gently pulled the prince’s attention away from the horse racing, it was coming down to two riders, and Alistair was eager to see a winner., but it was almost time for him to fight. 

He returned to his father’s side on the platform while Thomas Howe and Timothy Wulff finished their bout. The two were a few years junior to Alistair, and both were set on studying to be rogues. In the spirit of fairness, they rarely allowed a warrior and rogue to fight, and with the heavy shield at his side, Alistair was glad. 

The next fight was between Vaughan Kendells and a hooded female figure only announced as “The Silver Wolf.” Whoever won this fight was to face the prince, so Alistair watched with great interest. 

It wasn’t rare to see one of the ladies fight during these events, though they were usually faced against each other or stuck to showing forms and not directly fighting. Yet it became apparent why she was in the ring. 

Her near pitch black leather armor allowed her to slide into the shade of the tents, practically disappearing before striking with a dagger in each hand. Alistair took great pride in watching Vaughan get taken down a few pegs; the young Lord Kendells was a vicious and cruel person, and Alistair was not looking forward to facing him should it come down to it. 

The Silver Wolf continued to tire the future Arl of Denerim, dancing between his swings, and dodging the blows; angering him and causing him to become sloppy. 

Vaughan swung his long sword in wide swipes, hoping to throw the woman in front of him off, but she seemed unphase, leaping into the air and throwing herself onto his chest, pinning him and his sword arm down with her knee. 

Maric stood and called the fight, much to the enjoyment of the crowd. 

The woman hopped off his chest and offered a hand to help him up, which he slapped away, pulling himself to standing and spitting in the dust. 

The Silver Wolf pulled to the side, took a long drought of water before shaking her shoulders out and returning to the ring. Alistair looked around quickly, hoping to get any information on the woman in front of him. 

Mentally he went through the ladies about her size that he knew to fight, but came up short. Only time would tell, as it was now his turn to enter the ring. 

The crowd immediately roared when their young prince entered. Alistair in an act of showmanship swung the sword in his hand, before banging the flat of the blade on his heavy shield. 

Alistair moved cautiously initially. He knew she was quick, but also was a rogue. His shield could do serious damage if it connected, and this was for sport, not blood. 

Staying on the defensive would not do, and he finally began to close in on the Silver Wolf. Loghain and his father were watching. If this woman wanted to fight, she knew what she was getting into. 

Despite her speed, Alistair had bulk. The large armor and heavy shield quickly backed the lady into a corner and she had little space to perform any leaps or acrobatics. 

She tried flitting between Alistair and a space he left open, and almost succeeded were it not for the large boot the young prince wore. 

Tripping and flying into the dirt, her hood fell away, exposing the lady’s face to the sun. 

Alistair quickly turned, ready to perform the “final blow”, when his eyes finally registered her face. 

A sly smile, so similar to the night before, graced her face. Her hair was falling just a bit loose, and stuck to her temples from sweat. 

He caught his arm, before the momentum would bring the sword down in the sand next to her face. 

The world felt slowed, and for a moment,thoughts flashing through his mind, to end this or pull back and let it continue. 

Alistair wasn’t in it for the glory, there was no reason he had to win this fight, but the way Livia looked at him, he just  _ knew _ she would be disappointed if he held back just because it was her. 

Time returned to its proper pace, and the prince’s sword came down within inches of Livia’s face. She let go of both daggers and closed her eyes, the crowd waiting with a bated breath. 

Alistair nodded to his father, and Maric stood up, calling the fight. “Prince Alistair!” 

The crowd roared in response, Loghain and Maric sharing a look, as Alistair offered his hand to Livia. She took it graciously, allowing him to pull her up. They stood hand in hand, and Alistair raised their arms to the sky.

“Lady Livia Cousland!” Maric announced, and incited another cheer from the crowd. 

Exiting the ring, they were met with towels, water, and wine, along with the congratulations of an exciting fight. 

Both passed over their weapons, and took the water drinking heavily. Alistair watched in rapt attention as Livia’s throat moved, water spilling over her chin and down her neck. He brushed his finger under his own lip and Livia returned with a grin, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The gesture was comfortable and almost sloppy, but from her it felt like a special pass into her trust. 

An unspoken agreement passed, as Alistair offered his arm and Livia took it, a smile plastered across her face.

They walked through the market, side by side, just in each other’s company while vendors offered treats and trinkets to the Prince and “his lady.” Livia handled each interaction with sincere interest, allowing everyone their moment for the sales pitch, before accepting or declining the offer. She wasn’t dismissive or bored by the constant barrage, and Alistair watched her softly while she interacted with the common folk. 

Their walk was met again with whispers and wonders, and for a brief moment Alistair hoped it to be true. With Cailan having married a Ferelden, Alistair assumed he would be  _ encouraged _ to marry outside of the country. Maric had never explicitly said otherwise, and his tutors were sure he was well versed in all the different nations' practices of courting and customs for proposal. 

Livia eagerly became caught up with a blacksmith’s wares, and Alistair wandered to the flower stand, eyeing the magnificent bouquets made of crystal grace, embrium, and roses. A few of the ladies from the night before were building their own bouquets at the surrounding tables. It wasn’t uncommon for the ladies to then throw the bouquets at knights and lords during competitions or even offer directly after a good showing. 

He absent mindedly plucked a rose, examining the dark red, almost purple color, ignorant to the ladies nearby with their sweet smiles and fluttering eyelashes. His gaze was set and focused on Livia. The way she brushed a loose strand of hair back, while the blacksmith offered a thin blade for examination. She tossed the knife in the air and caught it again, then laughed at something the man said. 

“She was  _ fighting _ ?!” a whispered voice drew his attention. 

“Of course in this dog-lord country, even the women fight,” another voice snickered back. “She probably runs on all fours and bites at the ankles.”

Alistair made a mental note that it was the Lady of Starkhaven and Duchess of Wycome having this conversation and strode over to Livia, making sure the ladies’ eyes were on him. In a flourish, he bent to one knee and presented the rose, making her blush. When he stood back up, she thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, and took his offered arm. He steered them past the Marcher women, and bent to whisper something in Livia’s ear, causing her to giggle. 

The women’s faces pinched in ugly sneers and they returned to their bouquets. Today was still not a day to be wasted. The prince seemed spoken for, but there were other wealthy men at the event. 

The pair was drawn back to the fighting ring when the cheering and shouting reached the otherside of the market. 

King Maric himself was in the ring, fighting a man who wielded a sword and dagger simultaneously, immediately drawing Livia’s attention. 

Alistair took great pride watching his father fight, while the king was not nearly as spry as he had been, Alistair was proud to see his father hold his own against the stranger. 

Livia was fully enthralled. She had never seen someone fight using a dagger as a secondary weapon with a sword still in hand. She had been taught daggers were for tight quarters when you lost your main hand or to fight with two daggers and strike from the shadows. Part of her was fine with that, while there was definitely an argument that fighting from the shadows was cowardly, she also believed using everything she could to her disposal. With her father’s knights they trained her like a warrior, with a sword in her dominant hand and a shield to defend, but she never felt like she could move the way she wanted to, which is why in her free time some of the hunters in Highever had been working with her. But seeing this man, who moved like a rogue and warrior gave her a spark of inspiration for her fighting style. 

The fight was wrapping up quickly. Despite Maric’s strength, the stranger was quick and a bottomless pit of stamina. With a swipe of his leg, Maric was knocked down, his shield kicked away from him and his sword arm pinned under the stranger’s boot. 

The crowd gasped, and the man released the King’s arm and offered a hand to help him up. Maric waved to the crowd, prompting the cheers to return. 

“He has her eyes,” the man whispered leaning over to Maric. Maric returned it with a hush and a sad smile. 

He pondered for a moment then asked, “Have you heard from her?”

The man replied with a quick shake of his head, then breaking into a smile and bowing to the Prince and Lady Cousland. 

“Prince Alistair,” he clasped the prince’s hand in greeting. “And,” he paused turning to Livia. 

“My daughter. Hello, Duncan,” Lord Cousland greeted the man with a smile. 

“Livia, ser,” she offered with an extended hand, expecting the hand kissing she had been raised to receive. Instead, Duncan firmly grasped her hand and forearm. Livia straightened her back proudly and returned the handshake. She was so used to being treated like a delicate flower by most men around her. Duncan immediately recognized her as a warrior and she had so many questions for him. 

“Alistair, Lady Livia, this is Duncan. The Warden Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden,” Maric introduced. 

Both of the younger persons’ eyes widened. The fabled Grey Wardens. He didn’t quite look like the images either had seen. He was donned in a breast plate, shoulder guards, and some sort of robe. No signs of griffins, the Grey Warden heraldry, or the trademark blue and silver. 

“I trust Brother Aldous told you about the Grey Wardens, Pup,” Bryce chided his daughter, knowing full well his youngest paid immense attention to her studies. 

Livia pursed her lips, a smile trying to break out. 

“Yes. They are great warriors that defend Thedas against the Blight.”

“Indeed. But today I am just here to visit an old friend. Though I am always looking for recruits. A collection of most impressive fights, Lady Cousland.”

“I would not see my youngest spirited away, regardless how great the order is,” Bryce offered with a growl. 

“I meant no offense on this fine day,” Duncan backed off. “I merely was admiring the young woman’s skills. Tell me, Lady Cousland, who has been training you these days?”

Livia’s eyes lit up, and she gleefully began to tell Duncan about her training and what she learned from watching him during the bout with Maric. 

Alistair leaned into his father, “Impressive fight Old Man.” 

Maric elbowed his youngest, “I bet I could still take you on.”

“Doubtful,” a graveled voice interjected. 

“Loghain, how nice of you to join us. You remember Duncan, don’t you?”

The general glanced over Duncan with his icy eyes, and his gaze flicked to Alistair before settling back on the king. 

Maric never told him exactly what happened in the Deep Roads, and he was one of the first to raise suspicions on Alistair’s arrival so soon after, but Loghain had softened to the young prince over the past few years. 

“You fought most gallantly, Prince Alistair. I’m glad to see my trainings are not falling on deaf ears.”

“No, sir!” Alistair stood at attention and saluted. 

Loghain grunted and turned his attention to the young Cousland. 

“Lady Livia, I see your mother has encouraged you to follow in her footsteps.”

“The only steps I follow are my own, my lord,” Livia replied with a snark to her voice. 

“Livia!” Bryce chided. “I’m sorry Teryn Loghain. My daughter forgets the company we keep,” he turned to his daughter and glared. 

Loghain almost cracked a smile. “No harm done. The young woman has fought many bouts today, and quite aptly as well.”

Livia nodded her head in thanks and turned to her father and Duncan. “I would be interested to train with Duncan, now, if there is time. It is rare to have such a renowned warrior to learn from.”

“If there are no disagreements, I would be happy to spar with the young woman,” Duncan offered. 

The men all shared a glance and shrugged, “By all means,” Maric opened the gate back up for Livia and Duncan to enter. 

They started moving in an almost dance like quality, neither really striking towards each other, just testing one another’s movements. 

Livia quickly fell into the habit of trying to hide in a corner and then throwing herself forward to catch her opponent off guard. Duncan, having not only read the movements, but having seen her pull the exact same stunt twice now, quickly stabbed his sword into the sand and grabbed her foot right out of the air, forcing Livia to twist herself or fall flat on her face. 

He released at the last second, as not to damage her leg, but she was forced to drop both daggers to catch her descent. 

She panted into the sand, before pushing herself to standing. Using her boot to flick one of the fallen blades back up to her hand, she was quickly back in position to fight. 

A flame burst in Duncan’s chest, to see someone with so much promise and fire excited Duncan and he would do whatever it took to grow her skills and hopefully recruit her. 

They danced around the ring for a while longer, a seemingly endless flow of spectators coming to watch the two spar. 

Alistair watched closely to both of the fighters, his eyes softening on Livia and brightening to watch a Warden in action. 

Between sweeps and jumps, for a brief second, Marics saw Katriel. Despite how deadly she was, she always seemed to have fun when fighting, and Livia seemed no different. The dedication of turning your blade into an extension of your body was no easy feat, and already the young Cousland was picking up the skills shown to her only moments before by Duncan. 

Loghain held a similar thought, quite impressed by the lady. Anora had never shown much affinity to fighting, and he let it be, but he would have been proud if his daughter could fight like Livia Cousland. 

Bryce also watched with rapt fascination, proud for Livia holding her own. He hoped Eleanor would see their daughter in her truest element, and maybe loosen the hold that Livia would settle down with a husband and have several children. He understood Elenaor wished for a large family, like the one she grew up with, but Livia was proving to be more “battle” than “maiden”, and to keep pushing would only drive her away all the faster. 

A quick swipe, which Duncan dodged easily, allowed Livia to roll and grab her second blade, returning to a starting position. Duncan held back a smile; he hadn’t seen anyone with as much promise in awhile and regretted this was only for sport. Where this any woman, and not a Cousland, not Bryce’s daughter, not the Prince’s date, Duncan would conscript her right this moment. 

The young rogue was quick to pick up the fighting tibits he left for her. Moving just slowly enough for her to see the motion, then allowing her to practice it against him, before showing how to defend against it. 

Eventually Livia yielded, her stamina and strength no where near Duncan’s, who’d hardly broken a sweat. 

The two shook hands firmly, Livia took large even breaths to not appear too flustered. 

“Well met,” Duncan congratulated, causing Livia to beam proudly. 

The sun was nearly fully set, and the Tourney was starting to wind down. Music and feasting would continue late into the night, but most of the activities were wrapping up for the evening. 

“Lady Livia,” Alistair began, holding out a towel for her, while she dumped a ladle of water over her head, shaking away the dust and sand. “After some freshening up, could I escort you for the evening?”

“I’m not fresh enough right now?” she teased. 

“No! I mean yes. I mean, I would gladly take you,” he coughed, “I would gladly escort you right now. I just thought after such an impressive sparring session…”

Livia held a hand for him to pause. “Yes, Prince Alistair. I would like to return to the estate and change. I will meet you by the fountain in about an hour?”

Alistair nodded eagerly, and took her hand, placing a kiss above the knuckles. 

Livia bowed her head and let her handmaiden escort her away. 

\--

After both young people freshened up and donned clothes more appropriate for strolling, they met at the fountain like planned. 

The air had cooled considerably, and Livia snuggled into Alstair’s side as they wandered the closing fair. Pockets of merriment continued, though most of it had moved inside by now. 

Neither were particularly hungry, so they headed towards the docks to walk along the water. 

Fresh sea air filled the area, driving away the usually lingering scent of fish and refuse. Livia eagerly inhaled the salty spray, feeling a bit homesick for Highever and the coastlands. 

“Alistair, have you ever visited Highever?”

Alistair shook his head, admiring the reflection of the bright moon on the ocean surface. 

“I should probably check with my parent’s first, but would you be interested in visiting me there later this year? In a few months the apples and berries will be ready for harvest, and the changing leaves is nothing short of breathtaking.”

“You’re breathtaking,” Alistair whispered, not even realizing he said it out loud. 

Livia’s face flushed pink, and she tucked her cheek into her shoulder, trying to hide. 

“I mean! I mean it, I just--”

Liva silenced the prince, pressing her lips against his. 

Both froze at the boldness, but quickly fell into a comfortable space, neither sure exactly what they were doing but enjoying it with each other. 

When they pulled away from one another, both were reddened from neck to ears, and fumbling for words. They chose to ignore words for now and returned to embracing, their hearts beating rapidly in unison. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I did the fight scenes justice!  
> \--  
> Soundtrack: Falling is Like This- Ani DiFranco


	4. And Falling Is Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First loves don't always last

In the two years since Lady Anora Mac Tir married Prince Cailan Theirin there was no word or even hope that a baby was on the way. 

Whispers turned into factions, both claiming one side was unable or unwilling to provide the kingdom with a new heir. 

Maric casually dismissed such rumors, and in an unconventional move, abdicated the throne to Cailan. The swearing in of Cailan and Anora was a momentous occasion and the whispers died, albeit momentarily. 

Maric moved to the Hinterlands to finally rest after many long years of running and ruling. Most speculated it was to return to Alistair’s mystery mother, and very few knew the truth that he was ready to move onto the Maker’s hands and wanted to make sure everything was okay for a time before he was gone for good. 

With his brother safely in the throne, Alistair assumed he was safe to continue on as usual. Even with no little niece or nephew yet on the way, Maker forbid that Alistair would ever need to rule. He was warned he might be named Crown Prince, should Anora not produce a child soon, but he already had his own plans. With a blessing from his Father, Cailan and from Lord Cousland, Alistair was ready to propose.

Denerim was prepared to explode into festivities when Lady Livia would accept. Nobles and commoners alike were excited to see the young people officially engaged. 

During the past two years, the couple was often seen throughout the northern cities and villages of Ferelden, offering aid and seeking to know the people. 

Alistair was proud of the work he and Livia did, and was even more excited to do more, possibly even leave Ferelden for a spell to visit other lands in hopes of seeking alliances. He never thought he would do so much, but she inspired him with her hopes and dreams of travelling and saving the world. 

Exactly two years after his brother’s wedding and the night they met, he walked in the Royal Gardens with Livia’s arm linked with his as it had been that first night they met. 

“Livia,” Alistair began, “I, well…” his forehead felt uncomfortably damp, and he pulled away for a moment to wipe his brow. 

She peered at him carefully. “Are you okay?” 

_ " _ No! I mean yes, I mean…I'm a little nervous, sure. Not that this is anything bad or frightening or…well, yes." Alistair groaned to himself. Some proposal this was. She was going to laugh at him or leave him for this mess. He was the Prince of Denerim! Didn’t he have someone to do this for him?

Livia looked at him with a mixture of amusement and confusion. He was almost as blustered as when he suggested that they, “share the evening together, maybe?” last summer during their travels. His tact had gotten better over the years, and she was almost positive she knew where this was going, but by the Maker if she didn’t love watching him fumble like this. 

"Oh, how do I say this? You'd think it would be easier, but every time I'm around you, I feel as if my head's about to explode. I-I can't think straight."

Livia bit her lower lip to hide her giggle. A small one escaped and Alistair looked as if she had stabbed him.

“You’re laughing. You’re laughing at me. I’m laughable.”

“Alistair, stop. Look at me.” Livia pulled his hands into hers and stared into his warm cinnamon eyes. “I feel the same.” 

Alistair breathed in deeply and held her hands tighter. He took a deep breath and tried again.

"Here's the thing: being near you makes me crazy, but I can't imagine being without you. Not…ever.” Alistair released a hand, reaching into his pocket and pulled out a simple gold band with a delicate ruby carved into a rose on top. 

He’d spent months seeking a jeweler who could provide the ring he seeked. It was during their last trip, when he found an old man with impeccable skill in Dragon’s Peak. Alistar had a matching dagger made from dragon bone, with a ruby embedded in the hilt and rose vines carved up the blade. This would be a gift at the announcement party, and he couldn’t wait to show her the extra powers it held. 

Lowering down to one knee, he presented the ring to her, her eyes already starting to sting with tears. “Livia Cousland, will you do me the honor and become the Princess of Ferelden?”

Livia’s heart exploded. ‘ _ Of course!, _ ’ she wanted to shout. But his words caught her off guard. 

“Princess of Ferelden?” It felt wrong on her tongue. 

She was no princess. She had no interest in it. She felt stupid; of course she would be a princess if she married Alistair. It wasn’t that it ever connected for her, but when they were together he wasn’t Prince of Ferelden, he was just Alistair. When they first met at Cailan’s wedding, she internally mocked the ladies throwing themselves at the young prince, but after she met him, got to know him, she fell in love. 

“I mean being married would make it so, but I imagine we could settle anywhere. With Cailan as King, I don’t have too many responsibilities around here…” Alistair stood up, feeling dizzy. Why was she asking questions and not saying yes? He was so sure she would say yes.

Livia opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to make her mouth work. Why was her mouth so dry?

“Alistair,” she began knowing the end of this conversation would shatter her. “I love you. More than anything. But I want to be more than a princess.”

“I don’t understand…”

“It’s not that I want more power or anything. I want to be more than the Princess of Ferelden. I want to live my life. Fergus and Oriana will take over Highever and I can do whatever. Go wherever. I can be more than just a princess, I can be  _ me _ .”

Alistair was struck silent. The feeling that he wasn’t meant to be a prince bubbled back up in his gut. He knew what she meant, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. 

“But we could! We...We… We could leave the castle and visit the people. Continue all the hard work we were doing. I’ll talk with Cailan, and we--” Alistair stammered out through too many layers of too many emotions. 

“Will we though? Will it not be expected for me to sit around and throw salons? To have as many children as possible? I’ve already heard they want to make you next in line; that Anora is taking too long. That’s not me. I’m sorry.” Livia closed his hands around the ring, and turned away to leave. She paused and turned back, so desperately wanting to take it back and be everything he wanted her to be. But she wouldn’t just be marrying Alistair Theirin, she would be signing her life away to Ferelden. As much as she loved her country, she wasn’t willing to throw her life away for it. 

Alistair watched her walk away.  _ Turn around _ , he willed. _ Turn around and say I can be enough, that we can make it work. _

It was over. She was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Falling is Like This- Ani DiFranco


	5. I Am Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair grows up

Alistair spent the next week drinking his way through the spirits, liquors, wines, and meads meant for the engagement party. When he was called for breakfast, and didn’t arrive, everyone assumed he was busy with his new fiancé. When he didn’t arrive for dinner he was checked in on, and found already in a drunken stupor claiming he was a Grey Warden. 

Cailian quickly gave up trying to reason with his brother, letting him do as he pleased as long as he stayed in private. Anora found Cailan’s apathy distasteful, but didn’t know what to say to the young Prince, so she stayed out of it. 

Loghain would have beaten Alistair within an inch of his life, but was on his annual trip to Gwaren; his only attempt to fill his role as a Teryn. 

Maric had been in the Hinterlands for a few months now, and with lots of prodding and begging from Tomas, the Prince and his guard set out for Winterwatch Tower on a balmy mid summer day. Alistair hoped he would find new drink to lose himself in, while Tomas was trying to sober up his prince and give him some time away from the sad stares and hushed tones. 

Across the bannorn, Alistair was quick to find the seediest tavern to drink a day or two away. As they entered the Hinterlands, and the cool winds of autumn blew in, Alistair and Tomas spent more time in the wilds enjoying the bounty Ferelden’s nature held. 

They set up camp, less than a day's ride from Redcliffe, and even closer to Maric, but Alistair wanted one more night forced to hoof it before the trappings of royalty were at his beck and call. 

While Tomas worked on stoking a fire, Alistair watched the trees sway in the breeze, mesmerized by the shifting colors of the leaves.

_ “Come on!” Livia called, quickly vanishing into the thick forest of Highever.  _

_ Alistair was on his fifth night staying at Castle Cousland, a shock to the Teryn and Teryna when the Prince showed up unannounced. Livia smiled shly and said she forgot to mention it, before pulling him away.  _

_ A quick correspondence between the King and Lord Cousland cleared up the misunderstanding, and Eleanor was furious for being so put out, yet thrilled to see Livia had picked such a worthy companion.  _

_ Their days were spent wandering the areas outside the castle, where they practiced with swords, rode horses, and swam in the cool Amaranthine Sea.  _

_ Alistair pushed the final branch from his face, finding Livia on the edge of a cliff. The sun was setting across the aquamarine waters, setting the sky bright with pinks and oranges.  _

_ The wind blew consistently and warm, sending Livia’s wavy hair and skirt flying.  _

_ When he drew near she pulled him into a kiss, one of their other common activities.  _

_ The dry wine on her lips was still present, with a sudden burst of sweetness causing him to pull back.  _

_ She smiled mischievously, pointing out the wild berries at their feet.  _

_ Until the sky was too dark to see by, they collected berries, eating until their stomachs ached.  _

_ Laying down in the grass, they watched the sky darken, and the stars brighten against the blanket of indigo.  _

_ “I love you, Livia,” he blurted out. “Maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I’m fooling myself. Am I? Fooling myself? Or do you think you might ever… feel the same way about me?” Alistair asked cautiously.  _

_ Keeping his eyes rigidly focused on the night sky, he waited with a bated breath for her response.  _

_ They hadn’t spent that much time together, but he knew deep in his heart he loved her with every fiber of his being.  _

_ He finally cautioned a look, and Livia had turned on her side, inches from his face.  _

_ “I think I already do.”  _

“Your highness?” 

Tomas’s voice brought Alistair back from the bitter-sweet memories. 

Alistair blinked, causing tears to fall, and scrubbed him into his skin. 

Tomas smiled kindly, handing Alistair a skein of water. Alistair drank gratefully before passing it back. 

The two men sat in a comfortable silence, enjoying the majesty of the world around them. Tomorrow was another day and Alistair, for the first time in a while, felt ready to face it. 

\--

The last time Maric was in the Hinterlands, he watched his mother die at the hands of someone thought to be a friend. He turned from “son of the Rebel Queen” to “the King” here. A title that still bore heavy. He was so foolish then. 

Rowan, were she still around, would have reminded him how foolish he still was today, and Maric wouldn’t have been able to argue. Loghain would have agreed with a grunt and a smile that only touched his eyes. 

_ I’m sorry,  _ he whispered into the cool winds off the Frostbacks, while he sat on the balcony overlooking the setting sun. 

Sorry he chose duty over love. Sorry he let Loghain turn fear into murderous rage. Sorry he abandoned Cailan when the boy needed a father most. Yet, his mind recalling the times in the Deep Roads, he could never regret Fiona and in turn, Alistair. 

Maybe it was all the way it was supposed to be in the end. 

No matter what the path was that led him here, he was finally home. 

\--

_ Alistair,  _

_ You have no clue how proud I am of you. You are growing to be a fine man, and will help lead Ferelden into an age of glory.  _

_ I hope you find what you are looking for in Livia Cousland. She comes from a strong Ferelden line, with good values. She is a phenomenal woman and you two complete each other.  _

_ I know it may seem cruel to leave this world, not letting you know who your mother is, but I already broke her heart by keeping you. I will at least comply with her request to remain a secret. But know this: she was strong, brave, a fierce fighter and loyal friend. I’m sure she’s proud of you too.  _

_ Rowan would have approved of you. She was a gracious queen, and one of the best people I ever met. I don’t share these next words to slander her name, but she was not my one true love. The people chosen for you hardly ever are.  _

_ We did love each other, enough to fight together, then rule together, and finally raise Cailan together. There was someone else. Someone sent to end everything we were fighting for during the occupation. Love conquered that. But it wasn't enough.  _

_ Alistair, I know you love Livia. Keep loving her. You are more than just her, even when it doesn’t feel like it. You are more than any one person, you are my son, a prince of Ferelden, and you will do great things.  _

_ Dad _

\--

Alistair held the letter to his chest while watching his father’s pyre burn late into the night. He stayed even after Cailan and Anora retired for the night, keeping vigil with Loghain until the sun began to rise again. 

With the last flames dying out, he crumpled the parchment and threw it to the fire. Those words were only meant for him and he would not forget them. 

Once the sun was fully risen for the day and the city continued on, albeit in mourning, Alistair rushed back to the castle. There was much to do, and there was no time to be wasted. 

He did dally once the horses and wagons were packed. Bryce and Eleanor Cousland came by to offer their condolences, Fergus being left in charge at home. Neither mentioned a word of Livia, but Alistair couldn’t help but wait to see if she would arrive. 

Still midday came, and it was time to go. 

Cailan hugged his brother tightly, quite proud of the work Alistair wished to do, and Anora squeezed him affectionately, something she hadn’t done in years. 

He was Prince Alistair Theirin of Ferelden. Son of King Maric the Savior, brother to King Cailan, and he was going to do his duty. 

\--

Livia rode into Denerim’s royal district, the way finally cleared after a quite large group of horses and caravans departed toward the Bannorn. Possibly provisions due to a drought, or aid against a larger bandit group. 

She was quickly escorted to her estate, where her parents were enjoying tea. Prince Alistair had left only moments ago, and if she wanted, she could catch up. 

Livia shook her head, feeling foolish for having ridden so long without break, and guilty for not taking the trip the day before with her parents. 

For the first time, in a long time, she visited the Chantry. 

Kneeling before the marble statue of Andraste, the bright golden flame in hand she prayed. 

For King Maric, his sons, and the country he left behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: In This Shirt- The Irrepressibles


	6. Before You Knew It Was Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Livia tries to move on

Livia Cousland smiled with polite interest as men came up to chat with her. She sipped her wine slowly, and nodded at the right moments, eventually allowing them to lose interest and walk off.

Why she allowed her mother to talk her into coming to this party was beyond her. At least the air smelled like the sea unlike the last few cities in the Free Marches. 

For the better part of the last year she wandered her home like a rage demon. If she wasn’t stalking the hallways and unintentionally scaring staff, she was in the training ring, pummeling straw dummies when the soldiers and knights were too tired to spar with her anymore. 

It irritated her how hung up over Alistair she still was. Several times she tried to write to him, always feeling fed up and embarrassed with herself and throwing the note away. She told him no. She told him she wanted to see the world and not be trapped at parties. Yet in some poor attempt to brighten her spirits, her mother did take her out of Ferelden, but it was always dull parties full of dull people.

Now standing in the gardens while Free Marcher lords, a pretentious lot if you’d ever seen one, tried to talk with her about… Maker knows what. She wasn’t paying attention. Her first meeting with Alistair she tried to stay aloof, but he broke through and was so  _ easy _ to talk with. Maybe one of these men could be the same, but she kept them at a distance. Maybe she wanted someone to push through her defenses, despite how childish it was to “play hard to get”.

Alistair literally knocked her defense down, proved himself to see her as an equal and not a trophy to be won. He listened and was there…  _ Stop _ , she chided herself. It wasn’t helping. 

Bryce had been kind about it, and let her borrow soldier after soldier to practice her blades on. Her mother allowed her a few months of grieving before the requests came in. Despite Fergus and Oriana having just given birth to a beautiful little boy, it seemed Eleanor had reached her limit on letting Livia decide a partner for herself. 

Feeling eyes on her, she tilted her gaze and found the owner. Stark blue eyes under a mop of thick brown hair caught her eyes and he raised his goblet. She nodded and he smiled, making his way over to her.

“Want to get out of here and shoot my bow?”

She raised an eyebrow, and shifted her weight to her leg, ready to throw a punch if it was needed. Mother would be unimpressed but Livia felt wound up and ready for a fight. 

He held up his hands in a show of innocence, “I mean it sincerely. I know the host, and we can use his archery range.”

Livia looked him over, unimpressed and he flashed an exaggerated grin. 

She let out a half scoff, half chuckle and offered her goblet in greeting, “Livia Cousland,” she grunted by way of introduction. 

“Sebastian,” he replied, clinking his glass. 

“Just, ‘Sebastian’?” Not that Livia really cared. Whoever he was, he was nobility and Livia felt pretty fed up with the whole nobility institution. 

“Unimportant. I’m the youngest of three sons, so I was sent to the Chantry.”

“Being here is the Maker’s work then?” Livia laughed lightly.

He shrugged with one shoulder, leaning the other against a pillar with a grin. “I guess you could say that.”

Livia downed the rest of her goblet. “Well come then Choir Boy, show me this range.”

Sebastian offered a hand and the two slipped away from the central garden, cutting through the lower levels to the otherside of the estate wall and the archery range. 

Since she met Duncan and took up a sword and dagger, her time with a bow had decreased, and it took her a minute to find her form again. 

Sebastian was patient and stood behind her helping her pull the string back. 

“Remember to straighten out,” he whispered huskily in her ear, causing a shiver to run down her spine. 

She drew the string back, keeping both chest and forearm just enough out of the way to avoid being hit. The recoil on the taunt string often left a vicious mark on her arm when she was sloppy. 

Letting the second knuckle on her thumb touch just under her eye, she exhaled slowly and let the arrow fly, shooting rapidly down the range and thunking into the bottom of the target. 

She nodded impressed enough with herself considering it had been years. She passed the bow back to Sebastian, who in rapid succession sent flying five arrows in a perfect line down the middle of the target. 

Impressed, Livia gave a little applause, and the man bowed dramatically. 

“You shoot very well,” she remarked as they walked the length of the range to gather the arrows. 

“My grandfather taught me,” he grunted pulling the arrows out. While Livia’s arrow had flown crooked, the head was deeply embedded in the wooden frame. “Maker, woman, you put a lot of power into this.”

“It is my sword arm,” Livia replied casually. This was her little test. Sebastian already interested her more than every single other man she had spoken to the past few months. His smooth accent was a nice side benefit, and a small part of her thought he’d make a good alliance marriage, despite not knowing exactly who he was. She was spending far too much time with Mother. 

“A warrior princess, most impressive,” he purred, before moving in and capturing her lips. 

Livia forze for only a moment before giving into the attention. Her first and last kiss had been Alistair. It felt weird to be even this close to another man. But she had her own needs and wasn’t blind. 

“Shall we go somewhere more private?” he whispered huskily in her ear.

With half glazed eyes, she nodded and took her hand leading them back into the keep. 

Livia trailed after him hesitantly, truly unsure how she felt about this. It was so fast. Alistair always asked her, always checked in with her to see how she was feeling. Eventually she had to tell him to stop, while cute, it also slowed them down despite having gotten to a point when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Then she turned him down. Then she said no. She shook her head and forced on a smile. This was fine. This was good.

He led her through hallways, past servants, upstairs until finally they reached the destination. He stopped and placed a hand on the doorknob before opening with flourish. It was a storage room: boxes and crates stacked against the walls, extra furniture covered in sheets.

There was giggling and then a gasp, as two heads appeared from a couch.

Sebastian smirked, and the first head glared back.

“Seb, occupied,” he grunted. Livia immediately met eyes with him, a piercing light green, almost gold in the light of the setting sun. His strawberry blonde hair was tied back, framing his massive jawline and strong chin.

A second head popped up, a lithe and narrow face with aquamarine eyes, and Livia realized it was an elf.

Sebastian just leaned against the doorframe and yawned.

The man rolled his eyes, standing up and straightening his shirt. The elf following suit. When Livia realized the elf was another male and she blushed at the thought.

“It is your party, Harri,” Sebastian reminded him.

Livia’s eyes widened with realization; this was Harri Trevelyan. First born to the Teyrn of Ostwick and a notable swordsman even so young.

Harri gave a gentlemanly smile to Livia, a rude hand gesture to Sebastian, and took the hand of his elf companion leading him out the door.

With the door closed, Sebastian’s eyes clouded with lust and he stepped towards Livia, placing his arms on either side of her, trapping her between him and the wall.

Livia gave her best sultry look, though inside she only felt anxiety.

Sebastian leaned in and kissed her, his lips soft and tasting faintly of something fruity. He captured her bottom lip between his teeth and pulled gently.

Livia gasped and allowed her body to react, pressing into his firm chest.

Sebastian started moving backwards, pulling Livia with him and leading her to the couch that was so recently occupied.

He let himself fall backwards, bringing Livia down on top of him, their lips still locked.

The kiss finally broke, Livia looked down with half-lidded eyes, his piercing blue ones gazing back at her.

Unable to control herself, large tears began to fall down her face, causing Sebastian to immediately sit up in a panic.

“Hey, whoa, hey, hey, hey,” he tried to calm her down, pulling his body away from hers. He looked frantically around the room while Livia sobbed, pulling her knees to her chest.

He settled for just sitting next to her, his hands folded in his lap, staring straight ahead.

Livia finally calmed, her eyes puffy and tired, her body heavy and sore. She looked up at the young man beside her and sighed, dropping her head in shame.

“I’m sorry,” she began with a sniffle, “I was almost engaged, and you’re the first man since… well since him ever. I didn’t mean to frighten you. You did nothing wrong,” she finished with a weak smile.

Sebastian nodded stiffly, still unsure how to handle this situation.

“How about I get you a glass of water, and a towel for your face and we can rejoin the party.” He said every word very carefully.

Livia nodded, running her hands over her face, rubbing her tears into her skin. Sebastian stood quickly and practically ran for the door, leaving Livia alone with her thoughts.

Livia curled back up, wrapping her arms around her knees in embarrassment. It had almost been a year, why wasn’t she over him yet? She was the one who left him, the one who wanted adventure and craved excitement. She sat in her regret not noticing the host of the party entering the room.

She finally snapped out of her mind and back to reality when he sat on the couch next to her, his body lax and spread out, demanding space.

“I don’t believe we were properly introduced. I’m Harri Trevelyan.” His voice was deep and smooth, very different to the Sebastian’s Starkhaven accent.

Livia lowered her head in embarrassment, “Livia Cousland of Highever.”

Harri chuckled low, “I know who you are. I do believe my mother wished us to meet and match tonight. This whole party was to find me a suitable wife. A lady from Ferelden with a lord from the Free Marches would create quite the strong alliance. But as you’ve seen, women don’t do much for me.”

Livia blushed remembering the flushed look of the elven man, his delicate face and stunning eyes.

Harri watched her curiously. “Surely you aren’t offended by boys liking other boys.”

Livia scoffed, “You are hardly a boy,” she gulped looking up and down his wide body. He wore a simple shirt and jacket, a bit light for the cool sea breeze, but it hugged tightly around his muscles, of which he had plenty. This train of thought derailed her attempt to prove her open mindedness as she stared blankly at the young lord.

Harri threw his head back in laughter, not unaware of his affect on people, just as Sebastian came back into the room with a goblet in one hand and a towel in the other.

“Seducing my guest, Lord Trevelyan?” Sebastian asked, moving to hand the items to Livia.

Livia gratefully took the goblet, downing the water in a few desperate gulps and rubbed the towel over her face.

Harri stood, bowing slightly to Livia before answering Sebastian, “Oh, Lord Vael, you know you are much more my type,” Harri whispered leaning into the archer. Sebastian blushed and shied away, losing all of his cool in a single moment.

Harri chuckled again and left the room calling back to them, “Enjoy the rest of the party. I’m sure we will meet again.”

_ Vael. Vael,  _ Livia murmured to herself. 

“You’re Prince Sebastian Vael,” she finally remembered in an accusing tone.

Sebastian bowed his head, his face still pinked from Harri’s words.

“Hardly,” he scoffed. “I was an embarrassment. Still am. My parents had their heir, their spare, and then me. I have been written off.”

“Well what now?” Livia sighed. 

“We could get to know each other better?”

Livia flinched away, and Sebastian held up his hands innocently. 

“Talk, just talk. When do you return to Ferelden?”

“This was the last stop, hoping I’d be swept off my feet by a dashing man, hopefully from a powerful family, but that won’t happen, so I doubt we shall stick around much longer.”

“If you give me a chance I can always retry my wooing,” Sebastian said, raising his eyebrows. 

Livia laughed, “I’d like to avoid princes, if I can.”

“That sounds like a story! Mind sharing?”

“We might definitely need more wine… but it all started at King Cailan’s wedding to Anora…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Before You Knew It Was Me- SYML


	7. This is What I’m Made Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Livia changes her life

“Pup,” Livia paused her steps hearing her father’s voice and walked backwards to the main hall entrance, peering in. Bryce beckoned to his daughter who promptly entered and skipped over to the guest.

“Duncan!” she clasped the Grey Warden’s hand firmly in greeting. “What brings you to Highever?”

“The darkspawn are amassing in the south. I’m visiting loyal friends seeking preliminary aid and maybe recruits.”

Livia’s eyebrows shot up. Bryce had been very clear at their last meeting after Cailan’s wedding that conscripting the youngest Cousland was not on the table, but Livia held out hope. She saw no reason why she shouldn’t join and finally be able to see the world. 

Bryce, knowing his daughter well, already held his hand up, “He is here to see some of the knights, particularly Ser Gilmore. You are welcome to train with him, but I do not want to hear anything about the Wardens from you.”

Livia wanted to sulk, but felt too old for it. No, if she wanted to convince her father, she needed to show maturity in this moment. 

“Understood, Father. Can I escort Duncan around the castle, then?”

Bryce narrowed his eyes at his youngest knowing she was up to something, but not yet sure what exactly. She was hardly ever a disobedient child, but after the failed engagement, her emotions were more forefront, he expected her to fight his decision in an attempt to convince him otherwise. He waved his hand in dismissal and returned to his desk at the front of the hall. 

Livia spun on her heels, a wicked grin on her face. “Come Duncan, let me show you the barracks.” 

While they walked, Livia pestered Duncan with questions on what he had been doing in the years since they last saw each other. Duncan was glad to share his adventures with the young woman, and glad to notice his brief training years ago had not gone wasted. Despite the relaxed form as she walked beside him through the halls, her steps were delicate like a rogue’s versus a lady’s. And regardless that she was in a simple dress today, when her leg extended enough, he could make out the dagger shape on her thigh. She was ready for battle. 

They exited the castle to the side courtyard where soldiers and knights were going through their drills. 

“That is Ser Gilmore,” Livia pointed to a tall man with fiery red hair. She tilted her head just a bit and a light blush creeped up. 

“You quite highly of him,” Duncan noticed. 

Livia’s eyes flashed, “Yes! He doesn’t hold back when we spar! I know they all mean well, but I am a warrior too, I can handle myself. I bet Father told them to take it easy on me. I don’t care for it much. How can I prove myself if everyone treats me like porcelain?” 

Duncan chuckled warmly. He’d often heard from others that Bryce’s youngest was a fiery and determined young woman, usually in disdain, but Duncan was refreshed by her eagerness. 

“Could we spar?” Livia asked after a beat of watching the men finish their bout. But before Duncan would reply, and he was eager to test her skills personally, Ser Gilmore called out. 

“Lady Livia! Here to kick my ass again?”

Livia grinned, and unwrapped the skirt, exposing her training trousers underneath, folding the once wrapped fabric neatly and placing it on a stool. 

A man was already bringing out a sword, and handed it to the lady. She spun it twice, checking the balance and pulled her dagger from her thigh. 

Ser Gilmore was brought a shield, and Duncan saw the similarities between this fight and the last time he saw the young woman spar with a shield knight. 

This time went very differently though. Livia had practiced everything Duncan taught her years ago, and wielded her sword and dagger with a strong grace, ducking and weaving, letting the knight tire himself with heavy swings. Each strike she made was quick and demanded he raise his shield, wearing him out faster. 

Duncan knew it was unfair to ask again, and truly did not want to upset a family as powerful as the Couslands, but there was no denying there were stirrings, and based on his trip into the Deep Roads with Maric and Fiona, a Blight was sooner than anyone thought. Livia Cousland would be a powerful Warden, not only in her skill and desire to fight, but she would lead and make fast allies. 

Part of him almost felt guilty, making her give up her name and titles, but Maric had kept the Warden Commander in the know, and learning that the young Cousland seemed to think little of the whole trappings, only hardened Duncan’s resolve. 

“That was a most impressive fight,” Duncan noted as the two warriors came near. 

“Ser Gilmore, this is Duncan of the Grey Wardens. He’s here for recruits,” she side-eyed him, causing the red-head to blush. 

Even if the young Cousland wasn’t interested in the knight, he surely noticed her. Ser Gilmore had watched Livia bloom in front of his eyes and like many men of war, was not put off by her fighting ability. Fighting together in the ring felt sensual to the young man, and he’d hoped in time she might see him the same way. 

Roderik wasn’t ignorant to the almost engagement, but Lady Livia had been a glimpse of the woman she was today; as if the heartbreak made her all the more beautiful. 

Duncan watched the two young people banter back and forth, reflecting on their most recent bout. There was no denying Ser Gilmore was a fine knight, and would probably do well in the Wardens, but Duncan wanted Livia and felt like he would do whatever he had to to get her. 

“Now that you are warmed up, maybe time for our training session?”

Livia nodded eagerly, and ran off shouting behind her that she wanted to be in proper armor for this one. 

Ser Gilmore watched after her longingly, a sadness in his eyes. Livia obviously valued his skill and training with her, but it seemed the young warrior had already outgrown him. 

Duncan’s theory was proven right, only moments later when they entered the ring. 

Livia switched her sword to a higher quality silverite that was better balanced and switched to a longer battlefield dagger, instead of the smaller dagger she kept on her thigh. 

Her moves were less predictable, and held both the strength of a warrior and the speed of a rogue. 

There were several close calls. Closer than Duncan would care to admit, and Livia took it all in stride, raising her confidence and taking riskier moves. Some paid off better than others, but finally Duncan had Livia pinned. Livia grinned and reset her stance. 

“Go again?”

Duncan smiled at the confidence and readied himself. 

Many of the soldiers and knights gathered in the courtyard to watch them spar, and Bryce was waiting for his daughter when they finally exited the arena. The way her entire self showed through when she fought was obvious to a blind mouse. If she asked again to leave, he knew he would not be able to say no. 

Livia felt her father’s eyes for the last few rounds, but she wanted to prove that she could wait. Mother often scolded her on being impatient, and she knew her time would come. 

“Thank you Duncan for an educational and vigorous fight,” Livia bowed to the Warden and then her father, before departing into the castle. 

“Duncan, I believe you and I should have a talk…”

\--

Freshly bathed, bruises already starting to form, and muscle starting to ache, Livia felt a peace she hadn’t found in a long while. There was nothing like using your whole self to achieve a goal, and fighting had always been that outlet for her. 

Steel looked up lazily from his blankets in the corner, while Livia brushed her hair out and absentmindedly looked through her dresses hung up in the closet. 

Father surely would have something nice prepared for Duncan tonight, and Livia wanted to prove to her mother and father she had matured. She might never see the world as a Warden the way she dreamed, but if she could prove she was to be trusted, she could lead her own battalion of soldiers or find a general to sponsor her, much like how General Loghain sponsored Ser Cauthrien. 

_ Ser Livia,  _ she tested on her reflection, running the brush through her hair one last time. 

Satisfied with her grooming, she finally picked a simple blue dress, probably something made by Nan, and finished it off with a thin gold chain from her mother for her sixteenth birthday. 

Refined. Simple. Elegant. This was her goal, both as a lady and as a warrior. 

Descending the steps to the main dining room, the rich smells of Nan’s cooking increased her purpose. 

Her mother and father were already seated at their ends of the table, and only two other seats available. 

“No Fergus or Oriana tonight?” 

“No,” Bryce answered, after taking a long drought from his wine goblet. 

Livia settled at her father’s right hand side, leaving the left side for their guest. She assumed it was Duncan, but the somber tone of the room made it seem like Death herself would be taking a seat. 

Duncan did arrive, only moments later, the room unusually silent. He sat quietly, while they all waited for the first course to be served. 

After a few more awkward moments, Eleanor looked from the salad she was pushing around her plate and gave Bryce a pleading look. He coughed, putting his own fork down and looked at Livia. 

His eyes were hard and sad, and Livia started worrying that someone died. 

“Livia, your mother and I have decided,” he coughed again, and Eleanor bit back a cry, “we have decided to let you join the Grey Wardens.”

Livia wanted to shout and scream with excitement, but her parent’s drawn faces held her back. For so long she had been ready to leave the castle and make a name for herself, but the way they looked at her, felt like a death sentence instead. 

“Livia, I would be remiss if I did not give you as much information as possible before you make this decision. Once recruited, you have no name or titles. You cannot hold land or use your name for political gain anymore. You will be a Warden first and foremost.”

Livia listened to his words carefully. While she didn’t want to cast off her name, she also didn’t care for the trappings that came with it. Were she a peasant girl, that would have been just as fine with her. It was the potential the name held. The expectation to carry on a legacy. She wanted to forge her own legacy and not feel beholden to everyone who came before her. 

Eleanor was fully crying at this point, silent sobs, while tears ran down her face. 

Livia didn’t mean to break her mother’s heart, but she also knew, very well by now, her dreams and ambitions should not come secondary to others. It was selfish, and she knew this but it didn’t lessen her resolve. 

Steeling herself, for the inevitable pleading, “I do. I still want to join.”

Surprisingly her mother and father stayed silent, though Bryce had moved over to his wife’s side as they clung together, knowing they were losing their only daughter. 

Duncan stood and invited Livia to do the same, the recruitment ceremony was more for her parents than her, and while Duncan was thrilled by the turn of events, he took no pleasure in the pain of the Couslands. 

Livia stood confidently, no fear or hesitation on her face. While this was only a small part of her journey to becoming a Warden, Duncan held no doubts she would survive her Joining and help lead the Wardens to victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Made Of- Viola Martinsson


End file.
